After a moment, Ezra came out of his internal shock.
He was no longer in the bus.No sound of the bus of family, No faint tapping of rain.
Just silence — and the low hiss of wind through unseen trees.
He looked around, heartbeat stuttering. The air was pale and wet, filled with rolling mist that swallowed everything beyond a few feet. The forest around him was still — too still, the kind of stillness that feels like the world holding its breath.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.No signal.Only the black screen reflecting his own unsteady face.
He turned on the flashlight. A thin beam cut through the fog, trembling with every breath he took.
"Cough—hello?" he called out, voice rasping. "Is anyone here? I'm stuck—can anyone hear me?"
Only his own echo answered, distant and delayed — not repeating his words exactly, but almost as if the forest itself were trying to speak them back.
He swallowed hard and started walking. Each step sank softly into damp earth. The trees leaned closer, their shapes vague and wrong in the fog, like figures caught halfway between waking and dream.
His light flickered once.
The ground shifted beneath his feet.
Then—He slipped.
The fall wasn't far, just a sharp slope masked by mist and roots. He tumbled down, hitting cold ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. His phone flew from his hand, vanishing into the darkness.
When he lifted his head, the air had changed.
The forest below was dead.No sound. No leaves. Just the black silhouettes of bare branches, twisting upward like the ribs of something long buried.
"Shit," he breathed, rubbing his arm. His breath came out white, trembling in the cold.
He scanned the dark, trying to spot the faint glow of his phone — but nothing. No light. Just shadows and fog that seemed to pulse faintly, alive.
He took one step forward.
And froze.
A voice — small, almost fragile — broke the silence."Are you lost, mister?"
Ezra turned sharply.
Two figures stood a few feet away — barely visible through the haze. A little girl, maybe six or seven, her dress white but soaked through with mist, and beside her, a boy even smaller, clutching a stuffed animal by its ear, which girl having old lamp for the visibility.
Ezra's throat went dry. "I… I guess I am. My phone's gone. Do you—do you live nearby?"
The girl tilted her head. "We do." Her voice was soft, almost kind. "You shouldn't stay here. This part isn't safe."
He stepped closer, cautious but desperate for direction. "Where is this place? I—I don't even know how I got here."
The girl looked at her little brother, who pressed closer to her side. She smiled faintly, though her eyes didn't seem to focus on him, instead drifting somewhere past his shoulder.
"Our house is near," she said. "You can follow us. It's warmer there."
Ezra hesitated. "Your house?"
"Yes." She reached out her small hand. "It's just at the end of the forest."
Something in the fog stirred, almost like breath.
For a heartbeat, he thought he saw movement behind them — tall shapes, shifting in the mist, gone the instant he blinked.
He looked back at the girl. Her hand was still waiting.
And the fog around her pulsed softly — almost like it was breathing through her.
He swallowed hard and nodded."Alright… lead the way."
The girl smiled, faint but strange. "Don't fall behind, Mister."
As he followed, the mist thickened — not just hiding the forest, but swallowing it whole. Each step forward felt heavier, the air colder.
And though neither of the children spoke again, he could swear he heard something just beneath the sound of his footsteps — the faintest whisper of voices repeating his name.
"Review it. Power Stone it. Collect it".
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